Because they were roses & I was just a dandelion

Someone once said roses are admired, gifted, protected, and carefully planted.

And then there are dandelions.

They grow where they are not expected. Sometimes where they are not even wanted.

For a long time, I thought I was supposed to be a rose – perfectly placed, carefully arranged, socially approved. But life has a funny way of revealing truth.

I was never a rose. I was always a dandelion.

So here is my gentle reminder: be kind.

Don’t be the reason someone skips a meal, dreads waking up, or feels invisible in a crowded room. Words linger. Actions echo. Long after conversations end, people carry how we made them feel.

Some people love dandelions because they survive anywhere. Others hate them because they grow where they weren’t invited. Funny how that sounds exactly like people.

So I ask you, dear readers: are dandelions beautiful flowers or just weeds full of wishes?

If you have never picked one, closed your eyes, and blown its seeds into the air … have you really lived? That soft poof is childhood, hope, and possibility released into the wind. Every seed looks identical until it floats away, finding its own direction – diversity within the same pod.

Just like us.

Recently, I saw a video of dandelion fritters – golden, crispy, served with dipping sauce. Imagine that: the plant many try to eliminate is entirely edible, nourishing, healing. You can eat the whole thing. Nature wastes nothing.

Maybe the lesson is this: what we dismiss often holds unexpected value.

To me, dandelions symbolize communication and connection. They grow almost anywhere there is even a pinch of soil. Every continent has its version of them. They remind us that humans, too, are wired to connect and grow – even in unlikely places.

Like wildflowers, we must allow ourselves to bloom where others thought we never would.

The sidewalk may call it damage.

The flower calls it survival.

Dandelions light up fields like tiny lanterns – almost like Epcot at night – reminding us that beauty doesn’t always follow landscaping rules.

Roses are red, violets are blue

But they don’t travel the world like dandelions do

My own life journey feels deeply tied to this flower. Dandelion seeds are not meant to stay where they began. They are designed to fly.

She is ready to be carried by the wind, unafraid of distance. She doesn’t envy flowers rooted in perfect soil, because she knows survival and growth matter more than location.

Hope is a mighty seed that dreams in the dark. Just wait for the breeze.

And here’s a gentle spring reminder: before spraying chemicals to chase away dandelions, pause. One single flower can feed more than a hundred bees in a day. What looks messy to us may be essential to life around us: birds, pollinators, ecosystems quietly depending on what we overlook.

Maybe we should make peace with what grows naturally.

Maybe we should attract souls who honor our growth instead of trying to prune it.

Find a field of dandelions someday. Make a hundred wishes. Watch them rise – up, up, and away – carrying hope into places you may never see.

May there be room in your life to process change – the kind that arrives quietly, like snowflakes falling one by one until suddenly the landscape looks different. Life changes us in small moments long before we notice the transformation.

Life is not made of grand miracles alone. It is a million tiny ones.

Dandelions remind us that emotional healing is possible, even when grief makes joy feel distant. They rise again after being stepped on, cut down, or ignored – reaching toward the sun anyway.

Wishes upon wishes. All it takes is a breath … and the courage to let them go.

May all your dandelion wishes come true.

Pooja Thakkar is working to build cultural connections. You can read her column each week in the pages of The Reporter.